


All Messed Up In You

by Ol_Dirty_Sock



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Angst, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ol_Dirty_Sock/pseuds/Ol_Dirty_Sock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trent and Manson fool around on the set of the “Starfuckers, Inc.” video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Messed Up In You

**Author's Note:**

> I found an artist a while back who does some incredibly cute Trent/Manson stuff and it kinda inspired me. (Plus I needed to make up for being so mean to these two last time...)

Brian wasn’t as drunk as he would’ve liked to be. The stars were little pinpricks in the sky, jabbing at the corners of his eyes as he shivered in the night air. An occasional mystery noise would emanate from the distance, directionless and unnerving. The skimpy getup he was dressed only added another layer of things that made him ill at ease. Underneath it, he still wasn’t Marilyn Manson. Not tonight. Not around Trent he wasn’t.

The job that took him to these nauseous surroundings was no comfort either. He’d snorted at the dumpy Courtney Love lookalike at first, but after fourteen takes in the frigid breeze it got a lot less funny, and he couldn’t help feel a sharp bolt of resentment jab through him at the sight of the china plates with his face on them, waiting to be smashed. Seeing Trent’s face on another set might have been soothing to someone else, someone who had seen an abundance of kindness and didn’t secretly cling to any scrap he was given, no matter what followed. 

But underneath its cold white shell, Brian’s heart was weak, and still stuttered in Trent’s presence. There was no satisfaction in the thought of “right back at you, fuckface”. He didn’t want either of them to be shattered.

Finally, after several more missteps aggravated by tiny indignities piling up, everyone hit the wall at once. The crew scattered. The other actors slouched, shrugging off the affected mannerisms they’d had to shoulder for hours, ignoring Trent and Brian like they were just two more props.

“I’m going back to the car,” said Brian. Something pointed and needy in his voice told Trent it wasn’t because he’d forgotten his lipstick, and he followed the other man to the rusty old limo parked out in the dust. Brian had somehow scammed the keys off whoever held them, ensuring they had it to themselves. The locks on the doors still worked. After all, it was Hollywood beat-up, not an actual junker. 

They dashed back inside and Trent slammed the door, flinching slightly at the noise he’d unwittingly made and hoping nobody came over to snoop. They plunked into the same places they’d been sitting before, the deep red interior around them now looking extra lurid in the low interior lights during the dead of night.

Brian’s legs got in the way no matter where he shuffled or shoved them, bone-white and bone-thin, jackknifed up from the low-slung vinyl seat, almost comical. He swung one of them towards Trent, extending it as far as he could, showing it off like a doomed hitchhiker in a shitty horror movie. Trent didn’t look down, and continued staring at him, past him. Brian grabbed his hand and set it on his thigh, gently nudging it along the silky fabric of his stockings. “So are we going to do this?” he blurted.

Trent smiled, small and cautious, thin lips closed. Brian grinned back, looking as if his lipstick-stained teeth were bared to devour him whole. He rested his hand between Brian’s legs. Brian grabbed it and forced it into a squeeze. 

The dam burst.

Trent dove at him, burying his face in the crook of Brian’s neck, inhaling swiftly and sucking his skin. Brian drew back and planted his mouth on Trent’s, smearing his makeup all over both of their faces as he pushed his tongue past the other man’s lips. Brian’s skin was chilly and Trent’s hands radiated a pleasant heat, and he shivered at his touch, hands hovering over his ribs and slowly snaking over his chest, brushing his nipples just enough to frustrate him.

Trent drew back and broke the kiss, then stroked Brian’s scarred flesh, noticing the raw tenderness of some of the pink lines and fresh scabs. “Are those all for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Brian said with a smirk. Trent didn’t press it and slid his hands further underneath the black satin dress that hung off his slender frame like a rag on a scarecrow.

Brian rolled his head back as Trent caressed his body. His hair was limp and tangled underneath the cheap wig, and his scalp was sweaty and the cold air was finally a welcome sensation as he shrugged it off and threw it aside. An exploratory grope revealed Trent was hard already, straining against his clothes.

Brian scuttled to the floor and settled into a kneel in front of Trent, his shoulders flanked by Trent’s knees. Moonlight poured through the window onto his face, pale as the china copies of it they’d been smashing into oblivion just a couple hours before. His smudged mouth spread into a smile as Trent brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear.

“It’s too bad you got rid of that lip ring,” said Trent. “I always liked that.”

“I can make up for it.” Brian wasted no time proving it, and he unzipped Trent’s pants and ran his finger along the length of Trent’s shaft, then followed with his tongue. He took Trent’s cock in his mouth, sucking at the head, teasing, then plunging down without warning when he saw Trent begin to squirm. He barely grazed it with his teeth when Trent clenched his legs inward, trapping Brian between them, clasped between his thighs.

It made his stomach flutter. Trent didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want him to leave, and he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. He hitched up his dress and yanked his underwear to the side, and immediately put his free hand furiously to work on his dick, feeling it jump and twitch with every noise that Trent moaned and gasped into the darkness. 

Brian stared up at him, with his lips around Trent’s cock, slithering his tongue around as best as possible. Trent stared back as if he had no choice. Without any thought or effort he felt his stretched mouth contort into as much of a smile as he could manage, and Trent came, hard, jabbing into the back of Brian’s throat while he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a hissing growl that made Brian’s blood run hot.

Brian hummed a sound of approval and then pulled away, making a rude, wet noise as he released the tip of Trent’s dick and then gave it one last flick with the end of his tongue. He staggered up, grabbing Trent’s leg for balance, then slapped Trent’s hands away and straddled him, grinding against the exposed skin where his pants were pulled down. Trent squirmed, while Brian joined the clumsy, scattershot dance in an attempt to pin him in place with his weight. “What are you trying to...”

Brian shushed him and then quickly settled into a rhythm and felt his breath grow deep and ragged. “Fuck. _Fuck_. Stay close to me. I just wanna feel you against my cock.” He continued sliding along the groove of Trent’s hip where it met his leg. Trent’s skin was warm and soft, and the way it just barely dragged against his throbbing erection made Brian’s whole body sing with a hot, sweet dizziness.

He bent his head down and breathed in deep, wrapping one long arm possessively around Trent’s shoulder. He was going to cum on Trent, make him dirty and stained just like him. Just like old times. Trent bit at his collarbone, and Brian jolted with his entire body. His hips shoved harder and faster, and within a flash all his strength pulsed out through his cock. He shuddered and groaned, riding out the storm as it sapped his muscles and rattled his heartbeat.

After what felt like seconds and hours all at once, Brian’s chest stopped heaving and he settled back, dazed. He let out a sigh as he felt a few damp, heated kisses softly smack against his forehead and his nose. Trent tugged at the black underpants and smoothed down the hem of his dress, covering him up again, and Brian wheezed out a laugh at the idea of him being concerned for his modesty after that. After everything they’d done. 

His legs still quivered, slack and exhausted, and Trent gathered him up like a bundle of sticks and nudged him into his lap, caressing Brian’s calves and thighs as he folded them to fit up on the dingy seat cushions. The air in the limo had gotten considerably more toasty, and stuffier. Brian welcomed it and let it envelop him.

Trent held him and it was as if time took a few steps backward and stopped to sigh and rest, if only for a moment. Brian’s eyelids were too heavy to open, and his mouth was stuck in a wide, guileless smile. Underneath the sharp reek of what they’d just done, Trent smelled like sweat and stale cologne and old frustration slowly dissipating off his skin. He ran his fingers through Brian’s hair, and everything was like it was before, sweet and warm and painless.

“I missed you. I still...” Brian mumbled. Trent tensed and shifted almost imperceptibly. “Never mind,” he said, and closed his arms tighter around Trent’s body. Best not to prod at something so tenuous and brittle. Just soak in it while it lasted.

It would slip through his fingers again, as everything did, but for that brief glimpse it was his again, and he clung to it, with his arms and mouth and legs, with every thump of his heart and every rise and fall of Trent’s chest under his hands.


End file.
